


waiting on the right words

by spraycansoul



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Celebrity Crush, Fluff, Getting Together, Jack Did Not Go to Samwell, M/M, Mutual Pining, Social Media, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, gratuitous use of instagram
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:07:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25689343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spraycansoul/pseuds/spraycansoul
Summary: When Eric Bittle first lays eyes on Jack Zimmermann, the first thing he thinks is:Somebody ought to tell that man that he is not allowed to be cute and hot at the same time.When Jack Zimmermann first sees Eric Bittle, all the way across the studio with his huge brown eyes and his adorable upturned nose and his absurdly tight jeans, he completely loses his words.OR: yet ANOTHER soulmate AU where your soulmate's first thought upon seeing you in person appears on your skin after they think it
Relationships: Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann
Comments: 135
Kudos: 525





	1. black butterflies and déjà vu

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was 40% fuelled by how often I thirst over Pietro Boselli’s Instagram and marvel at how big of an ABSOLUTE DORK HE IS despite being a literal ADONIS OF A MAN, 40% inspired by my mild obsession with Conor McKenzie’s Instagram because his dancing gives me SO much life, and 20% a direct response to my sudden insatiable need to finally write a fucking soulmate AU for once.
> 
> TL;DR: this really got away from me. Please enjoy.
> 
> Title is from Black Butterflies and Déjà Vu by the Maine!!

_Just another lovesick afternoon_  
_Black butterflies and déjà vu_  
_Hoping for the right words_

-

When Eric Bittle first lays eyes on Jack Zimmermann, the first thing he thinks is: _Somebody ought to tell that man that he is not allowed to be cute and hot at the same time._

He’s still learning how to not feel out of place at photo shoots like this, but it’s difficult being surrounded by so many accomplished personalities from all kinds of disciplines—some days he still feels like his fame was an accident, that it could have been any random gay kid who happened to grow up with a background in ballet to go viral dancing en pointe to a Beyonce song. Alas, due to an amazing, unfathomable stroke of luck, it was he who gained over a million followers on Instagram overnight.

Walking into the studio that day, Bitty was feeling a little more centered than usual. Calvin Klein was no small feat, after all, not least when he was being featured in their campaign to celebrate Pride Month, and he had already been trying to talk himself down from his impostor syndrome since he first got the call from his agent. He squared his shoulders and steeled himself, thinking, _I deserve to be here as much as anyone else._

Well—that was before he stepped inside and saw possibly the most beautiful man he’d ever seen.

The man who stood posed in front of the plain white backdrop had a dark mop of hair that flopped over his forehead, cheekbones that could likely cut glass, and—Bitty discovers thanks to the fact that the man’s outfit consisted solely of a pair of black boxers with a rainbow band—the most perfect set of abs Bitty has ever had the chance to behold. (The dramatic lighting certainly highlighted these features.) The most striking thing about this man, however, was his shocking ice blue eyes that bore into Bitty the second he stepped on set.

“Bitty!” Jeremiah, the shoot director, snaps him out of his momentary trance, walking up to him with a friendly grin. “Thanks for coming out!”

Bitty had met Jeremiah a few years ago on his first shoot with Calvin Klein, and he had definitely become a comforting presence at these intimidating shoots, especially when he was surrounded by such intimidatingly attractive people. He steps forward to hug him, but not before glancing over to the model, who’d already turned his stony gaze back to the camera. “Oh, honey, thanks for having me!” He raises the canvas bag in his hand. “Where can I drop these off?”

“Oh my god.” Jeremiah’s eyes widen with interest. “Are those—?”

“Oh, y’know. Just some brownies, blondies, and lemon bars,” Bitty says, smiling.

“YES! You remembered my lemon bars!” Jeremiah cheers, beckoning an assistant over. “Mia, come get these sweets and bring them to the snack table. Bitty needs to get to hair and makeup!”

“Who was that?” Bitty whispers as Jeremiah leads him to the corner where the makeup artists are set up. He allows himself a glance back at the set to see that the man has gone back to work, eyes steadily focused on the camera and lights flashing on his face.

“Who? Him?” Jeremiah raises an eyebrow at him, clearly catching him look. “Didn’t you play hockey in college?”

“That’s quite the non-sequitur there, but yes, as a matter of fact, I did play hockey in college.” He crosses his arms defensively. It doesn’t bother him as much as it used to, having to explain how he was _both_ the Instagram star who danced in heels _and_ the captain of his NCAA D-1 men's ice hockey team.

Jeremiah seems to take pity on him and just laughs. “That’s Jack Zimmermann. Captain of the Providence Falconers.”

A wave of recognition washes over Bitty, followed by a brief moment of embarrassment at not recognizing him sooner. Ransom and Holster literally had a poster of the man tacked onto a wall in the attic. “Oh my god.”

Jeremiah nods solemnly. “Oh my god indeed.”

Bitty lets himself be ushered to the vanities in the corner, obediently falling into his assigned chair. Within the next half-hour, he is appropriately made up, his blonde hair perfectly coiffed, and dressed up in a white sleeveless denim vest, left unbuttoned to frame his bare chest, white jeans rolled up to his ankles, and white sneakers. It’s late in March, which means it’s still pretty cold outside, but thankfully the temperature in the studio is comfortable enough to be dressed like this. He takes a deep breath as he surveys his outfit in the studio’s full-length mirror, trying to settle the nerves that had suddenly creeped up into his system.

“You ready, Bits?” Jeremiah asks from the doorway of the dressing room. “I wanted to introduce you to someone. Your first layout is going to be a pair shot, since our schedule is so tight today.”

“Yup,” Bitty says, popping the p. “Who am I with?”

He gets paired up with none other than the Adonis he’d ogled when he’d walked in earlier, because Bitty simultaneously has the best and worst luck in the world.

“Jack, this is Eric Bittle,” Jeremiah says, completely oblivious to Bitty’s internal panic, when they reach the set. “Bitty, Jack Zimmermann. You guys can get to know each other for a bit, I’ll just go check if Ryan’s ready to go!” He runs off without another word, leaving Bitty and Jack in an awkward silence.

Jack Zimmermann has changed into a logo-printed white t-shirt and blue jeans that fit him like a glove, his ridiculously toned body thankfully obscured to spare Bitty’s dignity, but up close like this, his eyes are even more electric, looking straight at Bitty with a singular intensity that contrasts the impassively neutral set of his features. Bitty gets the distinct impression that Jack has no idea who he is, which is fine, of course. He doesn’t imagine hockey players spend much time on the Internet watching dance videos anyway.

Jack continues to stare, his brows furrowing slightly, and Bitty can’t look away. He feels utterly naked under his gaze, feeling heat rush to his cheeks in an instant. “Um, great to meet you, Jack,” he says, thrusting a hand out at him, mostly out of desperation. “Congratulations on the Cup last year! You must be gearing up for another one, huh?”

Jack takes his hand and shakes it briefly, but his expression remains politely blank. “Nice to meet you, too. And thank you, we worked really hard last season so, you know, it was good to have that pay off in the end. Euh, don’t wanna jinx it for this year, though.”

Bitty barely suppresses a snort at that, remembering Ransom and Holster’s valiant attempts to invent a hockey speak translator, which, to his horror, causes Jack to raise an eyebrow at him. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I just—” Bitty sputters, laughing nervously. “You know you don’t have to give me a soundbite, right? Trust me, been there, done that.”

Jack’s features soften a bit, and he looks shy for a second. “Sorry. It’s kind of hard to turn it off, at this point.”

Bitty laughs—genuinely this time—reaching out to pat Jack on the arm. “It’s fine, you’re golden.” He sees Jeremiah gesture towards the white background right over Jack’s shoulder and cocks his head towards the set. “I think they want us to start. Ready to take some pictures?”

“Almost never,” Jack says, completely deadpan, before stepping around him and onto the sweep. Bitty chokes on a laugh as he follows him in front of the lights.

“Hey, guys,” Ryan, the photographer, calls out from behind his camera. “Let’s start with Jack on the chair and Bitty just behind him, please.”

They fall into place following Ryan’s instructions, and Bitty ends up gently resting his forearm on Jack’s shoulder to make it look more natural. “This okay?” he asks, careful not to put too much weight on the point of contact.

“Sure,” Jack says, sparing a glance at him before turning back towards the camera.

As soon as the camera clicks for the first time, it’s like a switch is flicked—Bitty feels Jack relax for the first time since he’s met him. It’s easier, then, to fall into a rhythm with him as the lights flash at them relentlessly, as they go through different poses and Jeremiah watches them from behind Ryan with a wide grin on his face.

Bitty had never expected Jack Zimmermann to be so comfortable in front of the camera if his post-game interview persona was any indication, but here, he’s a revelation: his posture is perfect, his movements are seamless, and he knows exactly how to find his light. Bitty finds he’s having more and more fun as time goes by and Ryan starts letting them do their own thing. They try a couple different poses suggested by Jeremiah but none of them feel awkward or forced, each of them playing off of what the other is doing.

At some point, when Ryan has Jack standing a little bit behind him, Bitty decides to take a step back and ends up bumping into Jack’s chest.

Jack chuckles, and they’re so close that Bitty feels it more than hears it. “Where was this checking on the ice a couple years ago, eh, Bittle?” he chirps, his voice low.

Bitty turns bodily to look at Jack, wide-eyed. “What are you talking—what—you… what?!” he sputters, completely at a loss. “You know who I am?”

Jack just shrugs, smile turning sheepish. “I like hockey,” he says simply. “So that includes college hockey, I think. And I played in the NCAA, too, you know.” He raises a quizzical eyebrow at him. “You were a really fast skater, I’m sure you had to turn down your fair share of offers from the league to get this gig.”

“Oh my god,” Bitty groans, slapping a hand to his face. “For your information, Mr. Zimmermann, I only got _one_ offer, and I wasn’t going to ship myself up to the frozen tundra, even if it _was_ in my heart to play hockey for a living. Which it wasn’t. So.”

Jack cracks a smile at that. “The tundra? What, the Jets offer you a contract?”

Bitty sighs heavily. “The Oilers.”

“Too good for Gretzky’s team, eh?”

Bitty laughs, purposefully shouldering into Jack’s chest. “Chirp chirp, Mr. Zimmermann.”

The flash goes off then, startling the two of them. Bitty to regain his sight—for a second there, he forgot he was working.

“Oops, sorry,” Ryan says, winking at Bitty and not looking sorry at all. “That was a good candid shot. Wouldn’t want that to go to waste, no?” He takes another shot for good measure, and thankfully this time, Bitty’s ready for it. “You look great, guys, really.”

Jack purses his lips like he’s trying to bite back a smile. “No more checking, yeah?” he whispers as they settle back into the pose. “Can’t afford an injury this time of year.”

Bitty rolls his eyes grandly, getting back into position. “Sure, but no more chirping from you, sir.”

Jack rests an elbow on the top of Bitty’s head and turns a winning smile towards the camera. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

The rest of the shoot goes off without a hitch (except for Jack’s relentless ribbing, which really Bitty found more endearing than he should have). They end up with plenty of material, and before he knows it, he’s being shepherded back to the dressing room to change into his next outfit. He’s barely able to throw a sheepish glance in Jack’s direction, to which Jack replies with a small smile and a slight nod, before he’s mobbed by the stylist and the makeup artist.

When he finally emerges ten minutes later, sans most of his clothes, Jack Zimmermann is nowhere to be found.

“Where’s Jack?” Bitty asks Jeremiah when he steps back on set.

Jeremiah gives him an apologetic smile. “He had to run off to meet with his PT, he said,” he explains. “Anyway, we’ve got you solo for this layout.”

“Oh,” Bitty says, trying not to let his disappointment show.

“He might have grabbed a couple of brownies from the snack table for the road, though,” Jeremiah says, grinning slyly.

Bitty exhales in relief. “Oh, thank goodness.”

Jeremiah laughs, gesturing towards the set. “Shall we?”

Bitty settles into a rhythm when he’s back in front of the camera, cycling through the positions he knows highlight his best features. (It’s still nerve-wracking to be standing in nothing but your underwear in front of a camera, but it definitely helps that he was allowed to blast Beyonce from the studio speakers.) For the most part, Ryan and Jeremiah provide minimal direction, letting Bitty move naturally as the camera clicks in steady succession. Knowing his angles is his job, after all.

Everything goes smoothly, and the half-hour rushes past them quickly. Towards the end of the shoot, Bitty turns to the side to look over his shoulder, endures the bright flash of the lights, and holds the pose, waiting for the next shot. He counts to ten, silently wondering what’s taking so long, but the next flash doesn’t come.

When he looks up, Ryan is frowning at him, camera lowered. “Um, you want a touch-up there, Bitty?” he calls out, gesturing with his camera. “We can wait.”

Bitty frowns back at him, and then at Jeremiah, who looks worried. “What? Oh no, did I sweat through my makeup?” He touches his fingers to his temple, but they come away dry.

Jeremiah bites his lip and shakes his head. “Your, uh…” he trails off, indicating his own side.

Bitty lifts his arm and looks down at the side of his ribcage, where there is now a fresh set of words scrawled in bold black ink, unreadable from this angle but unmistakably _there_ when it wasn’t before.

“Oh my god.” He pinches at his skin, pulling it taut to see the words stretch, and then rubs his fingers over them, expecting—something. Some kind of feeling that will make it feel like something about him has changed, something as monumentally life-changing as finally receiving his soulmark. A prick of pain, a slight swelling, or an unnatural burn. _Something_.

It doesn’t feel any different. It feels like his skin. It _is_ his skin, now.

“This wasn’t here this morning,” Bitty says finally, turning towards Ryan and Jeremiah. “Or, I mean, I don’t—I didn’t see it? Even when I changed earlier I didn’t—”

“It’s okay, Bits, we can take a break,” Jeremiah says. “Back in ten, everyone!” he announces before ushering Bitty back into the dressing room and locking the door.

Bitty immediately goes to the mirror, compulsively reaching for his side to check, and there it still is, a blocky scrawl in two neat lines over his left rib cage.

“What does it say?” he asks Jeremiah, squinting at the inverted text in the mirror.

Jeremiah goes to his side to inspect it. “I can try to read it to you, but it looks like it’s in French so I’ll probably butcher it. Also, I doubt that either of us will be able to understand it.”

“French?!” Bitty frowns at his reflection like it had somehow betrayed him. “How can it be in French? I don't know any French people!”

Jeremiah rests against the mirror, smiling amusedly at Bitty. “I’m sure you’ll recognize it once you get it translated. That’s the convenient part, isn’t it?”

Maybe it is quite convenient that the first thought you have about your soulmate is always almost completely identical to theirs—most people are able to remember the exact moment they thought it, and who they thought it about. It’s also pretty convenient that your soulmark—of the exact thought of your soulmate—appears on your skin pretty much the instant your soulmate thinks it. Bitty supposes if it happened recently enough, and if his soulmate left a significant enough impression, he would be able to recognize it immediately.

“Can you take a picture?” Bitty says, holding out his phone. “Then we can run it through Google Translate or something.” He tries to tamp down the surge of panic in his chest at the thought that he’d somehow met his soulmate today and it completely passed him by.

Jeremiah takes the phone and snaps a quick picture, moving closer to show it to him. _Comment est-ce qu'on peut être aussi adorable et aussi sexy à la fois?_ , his side reads, and for all that Bitty had learned from his two year foreign language requirement at college, he at least knows that this was unmistakably French. Except for _sexy_ , which he thinks probably means the same thing.

Jeremiah whips his own phone out and starts copying the words onto Google Translate. After a beat, he looks up, grinning widely. “How can one be so adorable and so sexy at the same time?” he reads aloud, turning the phone so Bitty can see. “That is so cute!”

Bitty freezes, his fingers tightening around Jeremiah’s phone. The phrasing is a little off, but Bitty recognizes the sentiment instantly because it’s pretty much exactly what he thought about Jack Zimmermann when he walked into the studio earlier. _Holy shit_. He closes his eyes, breathes, and wills the giddy feeling in his chest to die down a little bit. It’s pretty uncanny, but it could also just be a fluke. Not to mention how absolutely out of his league Jack is—for him to be his soulmate would have to be his most unbelievable stroke of luck yet.

But Jack was on set when the thought came to Bitty—literally in front of the camera in nothing but boxers—and he had kept shooting until after Bitty finished hair and makeup. It would have been impossible that nobody noticed any writing on his torso, much less the photographer and the shoot director.

“I...I don’t…” Bitty exhales sharply. “Did anyone else on set have a soulmark?” he asks finally. “The models, I mean.”

Jeremiah frowns at the unexpected question, tilting his head to the side as he thinks. “We had a married couple on set that matched, obviously, but other than that? I don’t think so. Nobody asked to cover ‘em up, anyway, and it would have been really obvious if any of them did have one. Why?”

Bitty feels the disappointment wash over him instantly, and it must show on his face because Jeremiah gives his shoulder a comforting squeeze. It really was too good to be true.

“You know, you don’t have to cover it up if you don’t want to,” Jeremiah says.

Bitty sighs, thankful that he seemed to misunderstand his earlier inquiry. “I guess,” he says, shrugging. “It doesn’t really matter, right? Hopefully, I’ll find them by the time these pictures come out, anyway. Might even be a good story for y’all.”

Jeremiah grins. “At least it wasn’t anything nasty! It’s actually pretty sweet, as far as soulmarks go. And not everyone speaks French!”

He supposes it was pretty comforting that at the very least, his soulmate found him attractive, and that he certainly found his soulmate attractive, even if it didn’t turn out to be Jack Zimmermann.

(Although he still kind of wishes it was.)

When he gets home, Bitty spends more time staring at his mark in the mirror. For the life of him, he can’t remember thinking that about anyone else, much less within the same day as he thought the exact same thing about Jack. He supposes he could always just ask him, on the off chance that Jack’s soulmark came in late (which was a really rare occurrence), but what would he even say? _Hi, did you happen to think I was both cute and hot at the same time the first time you saw me?_

How presumptuous. And embarrassing, if the answer turned out to be no. No, he could never.

He can, however, stalk Jack Zimmermann’s online presence, because soulmate or not, he really was probably the most beautiful man Bitty’s ever seen. He checks Twitter first, but that turns out to be futile—for all of Jack’s hundreds of thousands of followers, he’s only tweeted a handful of times, and all occasions were explicitly related to hockey. Facebook was a non-starter, as he doubted he would be able to find his personal account even if he had one, so the next logical choice was Instagram.

And, boy, what a treasure trove that was.

He wasn’t expecting to find a beautifully curated feed of landscape shots with a few (gorgeous) pictures and videos of Jack interspersed throughout, but that is exactly what he finds. He clicks on the second most recent one, a picture Bitty can only accurately describe as a thirst trap—clearly taken post-workout, because glistening skin and flushed cheeks—and tries not to swoon at how unfairly attractive he is. He scrolls through some artful cityscapes and Falconers-adjacent pictures until he lands on—a video. In black and white, shot selfie style.

On his phone’s screen, Jack begins speaking in the sexy lilting accent of his that Bitty hasn’t quite placed. “Hi, I’m Jack Zimmermann, and today, we’re going to talk about the Women’s Suffrage Movement in the United States.”

Bitty has to pause the video to scream because that? Is a curveball.

An unbelievably sexy curveball.

He watches a few more minutes of the video and can’t stop smiling the whole time at how utterly dorky it is to see Jack Zimmermann geeking out about history. He swipes to check back on the grid view and realizes the video is part of a series, where Jack talks about historical events and their relevance to current events.

He eventually goes back to the video and watches the rest of it—it’s twenty minutes long so he has to click onto IGTV to finish it. He starts out really interested in what Jack’s saying, but the more he watches, the more he gets distracted by how long his eyelashes are, and the way he smiles after asking a rhetorical question (which is to say, adorably). He’s becoming more and more attracted to this man by the second, and he seriously needs to stop before it spirals out of control.

On impulse, he clicks the follow button before exiting out of the app completely. He also chucks his phone across the living room for good measure.

He’s able to distract himself for a few hours by baking some cookies and planning his next video on his laptop...which inevitably leads him to opening a new tab and automatically Googling Jack Zimmermann. A quick scan of his Wikipedia page reveals that Jack Zimmermann had graduated from Harvard (!!!) with a degree in History, was currently pursuing a PhD in the same field, and moonlights at Brown University during the summer as a part-time lecturer. He also finds out that Jack not only inherited his father’s Hall of Fame-worthy hockey skills, but also his mother’s uncanny ability to look good in front of a camera, as he has also posed for high profile designer brands himself.

He eventually succumbs to his curiosity and goes on Youtube to hunt down videos of Jack and he finds a bunch of hockey highlights, some stilted post-game interviews, and...a TED Talk. Because of course Jack Zimmermann’s done a TED Talk, in addition to the twelve million other things this man has done in his twenty-eight years of life.

(In the video, Jack is so nervous that he ends up stammering through his introduction, the poor baby, but he looks stunning and everything that comes out of his mouth is ridiculously intelligent, so Bitty endures the mild secondhand embarrassment for all fourteen minutes.)

Before Bitty knows it, it’s almost midnight, and he’s developed a ridiculous, irrevocable crush on one Jack Laurent Zimmermann.

He figures if he isn’t his soulmate, he could at least be a fan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ETA: OMG OK SO I SO TOTALLY FORGOT TO ASK SOMEONE IF THE FRENCH WAS CORRECT LMAO IF IT ISN'T PLEASE LET ME KNOW IN THE COMMENTS!! I meant to double check but since Google is my only reference I only got as far as exchanging the word for "hot" (which apparently doesn't translate into the same meaning as in English) to "sexy" but I still have no idea if it's something someone would actually say, let alone think 😂
> 
> Sooooo..... I thought I had gotten my Bitty-is-a-model-and-if-you-don’t-agree-you-can-fight-me headcanon out of my system with safest sounds, but HAHAHAHA apparently not. Anyway, he’s not technically a model here, more of a hugely popular social media star, so.
> 
> ABOUT JACK DOING A MILLION THINGS: I know, it’s a lot for our Jacques, but I always HC’ed that Jack ironically manages his anxiety by getting busy doing work that he enjoys, because his anxiety stems from self-inflicted pressure to perform and the fear of Not Being Good Enough. He’s doing a lot of things, but they’re all things he likes to do, so he treats them as hobbies and distractions from his main stressor, which has always been his weird paradoxical relationship with hockey. (He’s eased up after winning two Cups, certainly, but of course it’s still there.)
> 
> All that said, his having done a TED Talk (and the history series on IG, and tbh, a billion percent of his professional persona in this fic) was inspired by [Pietro Boselli's TED Talk](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PBYdBJyuzvE), which is every bit as awkward as it is intelligent. (The man's Instagram is one long, glorified thirst trap, if you're into that.)
> 
> Thanks for reading!! I have like 95% of this already written, so I'll probably be posting another update some time over the next few days! ❤️


	2. i lose my voice when i look at you

_I lose my voice when I look at you  
Can't make a noise though I'm trying to  
Tell you all the right words_

-

When Jack Zimmermann first saw Eric Bittle, all the way across the studio with his huge brown eyes and his adorable upturned nose and floppy brown trench coat and his absurdly tight jeans, he completely lost his words.

He really just stood there, gaping at him like a fish, because he was trying to comprehend how a person could simultaneously be so absurdly adorable _and_ completely and utterly sexy in the way that Eric Bittle was. His mouth had suddenly dried and it felt like all the blood in his body had rushed to his face, and it had taken the flash of his picture being taken to snap him out of his momentary trance. When Ryan asked him if he was okay, he’d replied with _ouais_ instead of _yes_ , like an idiot. Ryan doesn’t speak a lick of French.

And then he’d gotten to meet Eric Bittle, which somehow made him lose his words again—which was becoming quite inconvenient, really—and he had to stammer his way through a polite greeting in the hopes that he didn’t come off as a complete douchebag for ogling this man that he’d just met.

Thankfully, he and Eric seemed to hit it off, and shooting with him turned out to be more comfortable than Jack could have ever expected. Jack had long since learned how to be comfortable in front of the camera (after realizing that being photographed could be cathartic in a different way from taking photographs, and had the added bonus of not really needing to talk), but working with Eric was a different kind of easy—almost effortless. By the end of it, they were chirping back and forth like they were old friends, and Jack almost kind of wished they were.

Before that, he knew _of_ Eric Bittle, of course—how couldn’t he, when he led his college team to its first Frozen Four win as the first openly gay captain in mens hockey—but he never really thought to look into what he was up to until after the shoot that day. He was kind of kicking himself for not waiting for Eric to emerge from the dressing room so he could at least get his number ( _hah, as if_ ), but he was already late to his last PT session and he had a rep to protect.

Needless to say, when his phone pinged with the notification that Eric Bittle had followed him on Instagram later that afternoon, he had immediately followed him back. He figured he was allowed to ogle him from afar like this—after all, Bitty has over five million followers, so anything he posted was probably meant for public consumption.

He’d watched video after video of Eric dancing and splitting and high kicking and shaking his tidy little hips to pop songs he didn’t recognize (a talent Jack didn’t know he possessed, but was delighted to discover), and then for a while he fixated on a particular video which had Eric alternately popping his individual butt cheeks to the beat, _crisse de câlice de tabarnak._

And then he started watching his baking videos, which mostly only featured Bitty’s hands (kneading, piping, rolling) but always had his sweet Southern cadence narrating the process. As much as Jack had enjoyed watching him dance, he found the baking ones more compelling. Aside from the sweets looking entirely too sweet for Jack’s diet, Eric’s voice was warm and comforting. He could probably listen to him talk all day, if given the chance.

He doesn’t message him, though. He wouldn’t know what to say.

Jack adheres to a strict training regimen to stay fit during the season, so he meets with Alexei “Tater” Mashkov every morning at their building’s lobby to go for a quick run before practice. The day after the Calvin Klein shoot was no exception.

Before that, though, he likes to start his day off with a quick shower to wake up, and so he goes through his usual morning routine—pee, shower, toothbrush—automatically. Contrary to popular belief, he’s really not much of a morning person, but he does like having a routine, so starting every day with a familiar set of steps is important to him.

Except today, when he looks in the mirror as he brushes his teeth, he spots something entirely new: two lines of handwritten words on his left rib cage, peeking out from just under his arm.

“What the fuck,” Jack mutters around his toothbrush, turning and raising his arm to examine the mark in case he’s seeing things.

He’s not. It’s there.

The words are written in neat black strokes, and they don’t smudge away when Jack rubs at them. He tries to find an angle where he can see the whole thing at once, but even then, he can’t really read them in the reflection. They disappear from view completely when Jack has his left arm down, which is probably why he hadn’t noticed sooner. He doesn’t know when he could have gotten it, but it must have been some time after the shoot yesterday, because someone probably would have noticed. _He_ would have noticed.

He makes quick work of brushing his teeth so he can grab his phone on the nightstand. He swipes for the camera app and switches to the front cam, quickly snapping a photo.

The words on his skin read: _Somebody ought to tell that man that he is not allowed to be cute and hot at the same time._

Jack tells himself to breathe.

He has always had a weird relationship with his body. When he was younger, he never liked the way he looked, which years later, he was able to attribute to the fact that he grew up in the spotlight, under the scrutinizing gaze of a media that worshipped his parents. He never quite felt like his body was good enough—not when he was a chubby little boy, not when he grew into a gangly mess of limbs, and not even when he entered the Q and got really fit. He worked hard to try to fit what people expected of him, but it never felt like enough. No matter what he did, he always felt too big for his skin.

It was not until after years of therapy, a treasured friendship with one Shitty Knight, and one particularly enlightening philosophy lecture about Gabriel Marcel, that Jack had come to realize that he only has a body insofar as he _is_ his body—that he was simultaneously the sum of all his physical parts and yet much, much more than that. Nobody outside of himself has any jurisdiction on what it should be or what it should look like. More than that, being around someone who relentlessly showered him with affirmations, physical or otherwise, had beaten his former insecurities into a pulp; he didn’t owe anyone anything, much less to confirm to their standards of beauty, and if he did or didn’t wasn’t any reflection of his worth as a person. He has people who love him, and that’s enough.

In his senior year, Jack took a photography class on a whim. He’d quickly taken to the art, carrying his camera wherever he went, even on roadies. Taking pictures seemed like a healthy reprieve from constantly being in the spotlight, giving him the power to redirect people’s attention to something other than himself.

Towards the end of the semester, his professor had broken their class down to pairs, tasking them to take turns posing for their partner so they would get a better understanding of how to direct a model when shooting. Jack was initially intimidated by the prospect but was thankful he was eventually paired with Larissa, who eventually turned out to be Shitty’s soulmate.

Lardo, as she insisted to be called, was quiet but immensely talented, and directed Jack with such precision that modelling almost felt like playing on the ice. Like hockey, he has to use his body and make the correct movements to get the right outcome, but unlike hockey, there’s a lot more room for error and experimentation. Seeing the pictures afterwards was a weird experience for him, because it was the first time Jack ever looked at himself and genuinely liked what he saw. It was probably the first time he looked at himself and allowed himself to believe what Shitty, his parents, and the rest of his friends had been telling him all these years.

So reading about his soulmate being so taken with his physical appearance was... a trip, to say the least. He thinks, in another time, it would have rubbed him exactly the wrong way, but Jack couldn’t lie that now, finally, after everything he’s been through, it actually feels pretty good.

Tater greets him like he always does, which is to say, with entirely too much enthusiasm for seven in the morning. They usually default to wearing earphones and doing their own thing, so Jack goes through the run mostly on autopilot. It’s all completely normal until they’ve finally circled back to their building, and Jack comes away from wiping the sweat off his face with the hem of his shirt to find Tater staring at him giddily, like he just found out he won the lottery.

“Zimmboni!” he booms, jumping towards him and thumping him on the back as they enter the lobby. “You find soulmate and not tell me? I thought we’re friends!”

Jack tenses, glaring at him. “What? What are you talking about?”

Tater gives him a bewildered look when they enter the elevator. “Ah. Well, if you don’t find soulmate, then what is this?” He quickly yanks Jack’s tank top up, pointing at his side, at the unmistakable print of words on his skin.

Jack sighs, tugging his tank top down roughly and pushing the button for his floor. “Nothing.”

“Not nothing, Zimmboni. Is soulmark,” Tater insists. He steps up to him and lifts his shirt again, bending his knees comically to be at eye level with the mark. “ _Somebody ought to tell that man that he is not allowed to be cute and hot at the same time_ ,” he reads, and then he straightens up completely to give Jack a shit-eating grin. “Your soulmate thinks you cute and hot!” he exclaims. “Means…your soulmate is cute and hot, too, yes?”

Jack scrubs a hand over his face, because the initial shock of first discovering his soulmark has come back in full force now that Tater’s acknowledged it. Like his awareness of Jack’s soulmark has suddenly made it real.

The problem (that he’s been actively trying not to think about) is this: the phrase rings a very distant bell in Jack’s mind (a dull clattering, but persistent, pinging around in his brain since he first read it), but it’s decidedly not enough for him to place it. He’s not even sure he’s ever thought those exact words before, let alone who about. He frowns at Tater, his emotions a delayed jumbled mess of excitement that he has a soulmate, disappointment that he’d apparently missed them, and anxiety that it had all been a fluke. It’s not that uncommon for soulmarks to not completely align, but the sentiment is always the same. He certainly doesn’t think he’s ever wanted to ban someone from being attractive before.

(Though, now that he’s thinking about it, it would have been terribly convenient to be able to do that to Eric Bittle. His attractiveness was completely unwarranted, especially since he was already so talented.)

“I don’t know who it is,” Jack finally admits, shaking his head. “Can we drop it?”

Tater sighs dramatically before standing up to full height. “Don’t worry, Zimmboni. You find them,” he says, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

Jack nods gratefully that Tater’s let something go for once and allows himself to settle on relief, instead of the cocktail of emotions he’d initially experienced; he’s got a soulmate, after all, somewhere out there. For now, it’s got to be enough.

For now, he needs to focus on not setting his apartment on fire, because Tater’s suddenly insisted on cooking breakfast for him “to cheer him up about finding soulmate!”

April arrives. Jack mostly forgets about his soulmark (except for every time he’s in front of a mirror, and when his teammates decide he hasn’t dealt with enough chirps about it _just_ yet) because they’re almost at the end of the regular season and the stakes are getting higher, so he can’t really afford to be distracted. It’s kind of weird that something so big happened to him and yet so far it hasn’t had any major consequences, but for now, it’s probably better that it’s a non-event. Even if he wanted to do something about it, he wouldn’t know where to start.

He endures all the gruelling home games and roadies, and then he manages a hat trick to secure his team a spot in the Stanley Cup Playoffs, and then he narrowly misses a puck to his ankle that would have costed him the rest of the season, and through all of this, Eric Bittle becomes a staple on Jack’s Instagram feed. Not on purpose, by any means, because Jack doesn’t find himself on Instagram long enough to actively go looking, but the app’s algorithm seems to be intimately connected to Jack’s subconscious because Eric’s posts and stories always somehow appear first. He’s conscious not to like too many posts—doesn’t want to seem too desperate, not that Eric would notice—but seeing his updates becomes a small comfort and a good way to settle his anxiety and remind himself that there are things in his life that exist outside hockey.

The Falcs get knocked out of the playoffs in the first round by none other than the Bruins, which stings more than it would have had it been any other team. Jack handles it...well enough, all things considered; he knows he can’t win every year, and that it’s especially difficult to go back-to-back, and anyway, he already has more Cup rings than most players can show for themselves after an entire career, so he can’t really complain.

That doesn’t mean it doesn’t still suck to be sitting alone at home, watching the other teams battle it out while he idly scrolls on his phone for something else to think about.

The wound is still fresh two days after the loss when, taking a break from doing some research for his PhD, he opens Instagram to find a picture of Eric Bittle at their last game in Boston, wearing a Bruins cap and pouting rather deliciously. Jack momentarily stops breathing when he realizes he’s also wearing a Falconers jersey.

A Falconers jersey with a C sewn onto the chest. He’s wearing _Jack’s_ jersey.

 _Congrats to the #PVDFalcs on another spectacular season, but I guess I’m gonna have to root for the home team now. :/// #NHLBruins_ , the caption reads.

Like clockwork, Jack’s phone pings with a notification.

**Shitty Knight  
**Fri, 22 April, 2:34 PM

YOU SLY DOG

care to explain why eric mf bittle is  
wearing your mf jersey????  
[Link attached: Eric Bittle on Instagram:  
“Congrats to the…”]

Just saw.

I honestly have no idea, Shits.

what do you mean you have no idea??

there’s got to be a REASON, JACOB

Again, that is not my name.

I don’t know, we met at that Calvin Klein  
shoot last month?

Maybe that’s why.

oh my god, jachary

so is that also the reason why you were a part  
of his weekly obsessions thing last week?

WHAT ARE YOU NOT TELLING ME

Still not my name.

What weekly obsessions thing?

HIS WEEKLY OBSESSIONS THING

the thing he does on ig stories every week

it’s a whole thing, jackson

Stop

I didn’t know he did that.

We haven’t really talked since the shoot.

well he does. and he talked about YOU

AT LENGTH

like. i thought i was having a stroke or  
something because he sounded like me  
for a minute there

I THOUGHT YOU KNEW LMFAO DON’T YOU  
FOLLOW HIM

What did he say?

that he thought you guys had a real chance of  
going back to back

…tough luck on that one brah

Oh. Well. That’s nice of him, I guess.

and that you have the most amazing ass he’s  
ever seen on a person and how your eyes are  
SO BLUE and how he still doesn’t quite  
believe that you’re real

…

also that everyone should check out your ted  
talk on youtube

God.

JACKY. HE LIKES YOU

He does not.

sorry, you’re right he doesn't. HES JUST  
OBSESSED WITH YOU

HE’S WEARING YOUR JERSEY BRO

AT A FUCKING BRUINS GAME.

HE WATCHED YOUR TED TALK

I really wish he hadn’t.

It was really good brah

you should message him

No, Shits.

What would I even say?

like, thanks for the shoutout or something

he’s obviously into you

You don’t know that. 

which one of us watched him gush about you  
for five minutes huh

Come on. You’re exaggerating.

WHICH ONE OF US, JACQUES

Not my name.

...But fine.

I’ll think about it.

YES!!! CALL ME AS SOON AS HE REPLIES

-

Anyway, Eric Bittle never replies, because Jack never manages to message him.

It’s not for lack of trying—he gets as far as opening a message thread with him a couple of times, but he ends up just staring at the blank screen with zero ideas about what the hell he should say until he eventually gets distracted or gives up. Honestly, he’s still a little confused (but also really pleased?) that Eric Bittle apparently owns a jersey with his name and number on it. It’s nice, but baffling all the same.

Thankfully, Shitty doesn’t pester him about it again, so before long, it falls off of Jack’s agenda entirely. He gets busy with his studies (researching for a dissertation about sports history is not an easy task) and drowns himself in books and meetings with his advisor.

In May, he travels home to Montreal for a couple weeks and takes a bunch of pictures and shoots a few more videos of his history series that he posts on Instagram. It’s good to see his parents for a while even though they both seem busier than usual, so Jack usually finds himself home alone. He eventually starts going through Eric Bittle’s Youtube channel—half out of sheer boredom and half out of desperation—because he found out that he has a whole slew of baking tutorial videos that are equally entertaining and educational.

So Jack’s been baking. Granted, he’s not very good at it yet, but his parents seem to appreciate the extra treats, and he even manages to get his dad to help on a batch of cinnamon rolls. Those turn out to taste pretty good, probably the best baking-adjacent thing he’s ever attempted, and they also looked pretty good, so he decided to take a couple pictures and post them to his Instagram. He taps out a generic caption and, without contemplating it for too long, tacks on a little shout out to **@omgcheckplease** for the recipe.

It’s not a conscious effort to stay away from his phone after that, but his dad starts an impromptu Monopoly Deal tournament, and since his family is comprised of two insanely competitive hockey players and one insanely competitive former actress and supermodel, they spend hours playing (read: bickering) until his dad wins three straight and his mom finally decides she’s had enough of his cheating.

When Jack finally settles into bed and checks his phone, there are a couple emails from the Falcs PR team inquiring about when he’ll be back in Providence to shoot some off-season fluff pieces, a bunch of notifications from the team’s group chat, and... a direct message from one Eric Bittle.

The first is a link to his original post of the cinnamon rolls, but the next one says, _These look so great, Jack! Glad I could be of service. I hope you and your dad enjoyed them!_ 🤗 It was sent a few hours ago, probably soon after Jack posted.

He dithers on a response because, as usual, he can’t think of a single decent thing to say to this man, but eventually he manages to type: _Your tips were really helpful. And they tasted really good, but definitely not as good as your brownies. :)_

He gets a reply just a few minutes later. Jack gets the silly thought to finally inform Shitty, but he needs to send something back to Eric first.

**Eric Bittle** @omgcheckplease

I’m so relieved you actually got to try a few  
that day! 

I meant to give you a box or something  
for the road anyway but when I came out  
of the dressing room you were gone, haha

I’m really sorry about that. I had to go in for  
PT after the shoot and I was already late.

Oh, no, don’t be! Jeremiah told me. 😊

Well, I’m still sorry.

I had a lot of fun that day.

Me too hon!

Even though I’m sure there’s some etiquette  
rule that prohibits that much chirping when  
you’ve just met someone :P

Not sure I’ve heard of that before.

You’ll have to send me the rule book.

Omg you’re literally the worst 🐥🐥🐥

Well I’m afraid I can’t help you on that front

But if you ever need help with your baking,  
I’m your guy!! 😌

-

With the initial ice broken, Jack takes Eric up on his offer and starts messaging him with any questions he has when baking, even when he returns to Providence. Eric—who has since insisted he be called Bitty—has the patience of a saint, always answering Jack’s questions promptly and with unfailing enthusiasm. During one particular crisis involving some macarons that came out flat and wonky, Bitty decides to video call him to help him troubleshoot.

Jack panics a little bit as his phone vibrates in his hand but ultimately, his frustration over the godforsaken macarons wins out. Despite exchanging messages for the past few weeks, he’s still completely caught off guard by Bitty’s face suddenly filling his screen. The angle would be unflattering for anybody else, but even like this, Bitty is stunning. Jack struggles to keep a grasp on his vocabulary so that he doesn’t embarrass himself a second time.

“Jack!” Bitty exclaims. “Sorry for the sudden call, but I figured I could help you a bit better if I could see what was happening. So, wait, you said your macarons have the feet, right?”

Jack blinks at him, hoping the camera doesn’t catch his outrageous blush. “Euh, yeah, they’re there, but they’re not quite right.”

“Can you show me?” Bitty asks patiently, and _crisse_ , of course he should show him.

Jack switches cameras on his phone to show Bitty the sad batch of cookies. “The feet spread out for some reason instead of rising up.”

Bitty tilts his head to the side, tapping his chin, which Jack finds impossibly cute. “Hm. They can get like that if you overmix the batter. Did you do the figure eight trick after folding?”

“Yeah, I thought it was okay. It didn’t break, at least, when I tried.”

Bitty nods. “Then I guess your oven’s temperature just runs a little hot. Do you have another batch of batter resting or was that everything?”

Jack swings the camera over to show Bitty the other side of his counter. “No, there’s another sheet that I haven’t put in the oven. Is it okay that they sat a little longer than the first batch?”

“Yeah, that should be fine!” Bitty says, grinning widely. “Are they dry and matte?”

Jack angles his phone closer so it catches how he taps a finger over the top of one macaron. “Yup,” he confirms.

When he glances back at the screen, Bitty is beaming. “Great! You’re gonna need to lower the temperature of your oven before you put them in, but those look great, Jack! Macarons are actually pretty hard to execute, you know, but it looks like you nailed it!”

“Thanks,” Jack says, trying not to preen at the praise. “Euh, what temperature should it be? I had it at 350 like you said.”

“325 should do it, but maybe wait ten minutes before you stick ‘em in to be sure,” Bitty says. Jack rounds the island to lower the temperature of the oven, not realizing he was still holding his phone until Bitty lets out a low whistle. “I gotta say, Jack, that’s quite a beautiful kitchen you’ve got.”

Jack switches back to the front cam, smiling sheepishly. “My mom helped me pick out a place when I first signed. It gets the job done, I suppose.”

“Gets the job done?” Bitty gasps, clutching at imaginary pearls. “You have a Viking range, if I saw correctly. Next I’m gonna find out you have a set of copper pots that have never seen the light of day!”

Jack laughs, shaking his head. “No, no copper pots here,” he assures him. “I’m not really much of a cook. The only reason I can barely bake is because your videos are so helpful.”

Bitty’s smile turns a little bashful. “Charmer.”

“It’s true,” Jack insists. “Thanks for helping me all the time, by the way. Feel free to tell me to get lost if I’m being annoying.”

“Never!” Bitty looks offended at the implication. “I promise you it’s no trouble. Though…” he trails off, a small smile playing at his lips.

“What?”

Bitty gets this cute little crinkle between his eyebrows, and Jack itches to smooth it over with his fingers. “You don’t have to message me through Instagram all the time, you know. I can just give you my number.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JACK POV TIME!! I always love writing Jack because he can be such a dingus, yanno? Big of ass AND dumb of ass!
> 
> If you read my opening notes to this story, you would know that Jack is highly inspired by Pietro Boselli, and Bitty is highly inspired by Conor McKenzie. [Here](https://www.instagram.com/p/B1jXwv1FmFc/?igshid=1euvjwscdrjan) is a video where Conor McKenzie twerks his INDIVIDUAL BUTT CHEEKS LMAO WILD. Anyway he's fucking fierce and he's from North Carolina so he has a bit of an accent when he speaks and just!! Reminds me so much of Bitty for some reason!!
> 
> The last chapter,,, let's just say I'm having too much fun writing the last chapter and I keep meaning to end it but it just keeps writing itself soooo fingers crossed I get it done by tomorrow!! If not... you'll get it eventually!! 😅
> 
> Thanks for reading!! Your comments and kudos always make my day 🥰


	3. twenty-six letters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bumped the rating up to an M for allusions to/mentions of sex!

_There are only twenty_ _  
_ _Six letters I can use_ _  
_ _Just to tell you I won't let go_ _  
_ _Don't you let go_

-

**Unknown Number**

4:13 PM

Hi -Jack :)

**Jack Zimmermann**

4:14 PM

Hi, yourself 😋

Lemme see the macarons!

[Image attached: a dozen baby blue  
macarons with cream cheese filling  
piled high on a plate]

OMG THEY'RE PERFECT 😱😍

Haha

Thanks to you.

Darn tootin!! 

Where would you be without me!!

Chucking some sad macarons out of  
the window, probably

🤣 Crisis averted!

Friday, May 15, 9:34 AM

Jack

SOS!!!!

I need a second opinion

Wow

That’s a change of pace.

Haha what’s up?

…..Actually

What’s your address?

Can I ask why?

I want to send you something!

I PROMISE IT’S NOT A DEADLY WEAPON

….That’s not suspicious at all.

[Address attached]

Saturday, May 16, 2:24 PM

You said it wasn’t going to be a deadly weapon

[Image attached: a box of beautiful chocolate  
cupcakes on Jack’s counter, missing two cupcakes]

These are lethal, Bitty

My nutritionist is going to kill me for eating  
the whole box

(~˘▾˘)~ ✨

You don’t think they’re too sweet?

They’re cheesecake-stuffed!

Not at all, I was actually surprised that they  
weren’t all that sweet.

Well, they ARE too sweet. For my meal plan.

It’s the off-season!! Live a little!! 😈

Wow. You’re really trying to get me killed.

I’ll have Nate send you my head so you’ll  
have to live with the guilt

Drama queen 🙄

But death by my cupcakes?? Not the worst  
way to go! 😉

I’d have to agree with you there

These are delicious, Bitty. Thank you.

You’re welcome!! Share ‘em with your  
teammates so you’re not Nate’s only  
target 😝

**Recent Calls**

**Jack Zimmermann**

May 16, 2018

3:15 PM **Incoming Call**

4 minutes

7:22 PM **Outgoing Call**

46 minutes

**Jack 🐥🐥🐥**

Monday, May 18, 6:21 AM

[Image attached: a goose staring angrily  
up at the camera]

He says good morning

8:29 AM

[Image attached: a worn stuffed bunny  
resting on a pillow]

Señor Bun says good morning back!

Don’t be silly

Stuffed bunnies can’t talk

:)

oh my god

it is entirely too early for this and i hate you

Haha

Have a good day, Bittle :)

You, too! 🤗

Wednesday, May 20, 10:28 PM

Hey. Can I call you?

I’m just finishing up some editing, but I  
can call you in five?

What’s up?

Sorry, I just

Need to talk and Shitty’s knee deep in  
Corporate Tax

If that’s okay

Oh honey

Is everything alright?

Can’t sleep

**Recent Calls**

**Jack 🐥🐥🐥**

May 20, 2018

10:32 PM **Outgoing Call**

128 minutes

**Jack 🐥🐥🐥**

Thursday, May 21, 7:16 AM

Hey. Thanks for last night.

Sorry if it was a lot.

You really helped though

8:35 AM

First of all, don’t apologize!

And any time, hon.

I mean it 🤗

Thanks.

Same to you, Bits.

❤️

Take it easy today!

Will do. Have fun at the studio.

Oh, I intend to 😉 Video tomorrow!

I’m not your Instagram, Bittle.

Yeah, but you’re a fan, aren’t ya? HAHA

I thought you’d be more grateful for  
the exclusive heads up!! 😤

Well, that depends.

Do I get a preview?

🙄 Now you’re just taking advantage.

12:38 PM

[Video attached: Clip of Bitty dancing in blue  
booty shorts to ‘Partition’ by Beyonce]

Happy?  
[ **Read** 12:39 PM]

3:36 PM

Jack?

Sorry

I had a thing

Looking good, Bits. :)

Why thank you Mr. Zimmermann (▰˘◡˘▰)

How did you get into dancing?

Sorry if that’s kinda random

Oh, I used to figure skate and my coach  
made me take ballet for years!

As a result I’m pretty bendy and good  
at dancing in heels 💃🏻

Or at least good enough for people to take  
notice 😂

Honestly I posted like ONE dance video  
for fun but it really blew up so I ran with it

Oh wow I didn’t know that

Guess that explains your speed on  
the ice then

Yeah, it came in pretty handy when I  
switched to hockey!

Why didn’t you keep playing?

I mean, Boston’s no Edmonton but it’s still  
pretty cold over there, eh?

HAHA I can’t believe you remember that

I just didn’t think it was the right thing for me,  
you know?

I mean, I love hockey, but it can be kind of…

Toxic?

HAH!

I guess you’d know it just as well as I do 😒

Yeah. It’s… not great.

But there’s been a lot of improvement around  
the league since…

Since you came out. I know.

Jack, I know you probably get this a lot, but  
you coming out after winning the Cup…

It helped.

It meant a lot to so many people. To me.

So thank you.

I could say the same to you :)

But honestly, I don’t think I ever would have  
done it if not for the Falcs management  
and the team being so supportive

My AGM, when she recruited me, she made  
it clear that if I ever wanted to come out,  
it wouldn’t be a problem

I was just tired of hiding. I didn’t really hide  
in college and I didn’t want to go back to that,  
you know?

Yeah, my team was really great about the  
whole gay thing, too. I mean, it’s Samwell 😂

Guess it really makes a difference when  
you feel safe enough to be yourself, huh?

Anyway, I think I’m much better suited to my  
current job than if I had to play professional  
hockey, HAHA

Haha

Hey, for what it’s worth?

You would have been a fantastic Oiler, Bits.

Aww thanks hon 🥰

But I’m glad you found your true calling  
because if you hadn’t I wouldn’t get free  
cupcakes and advanced previews

Oh I see how it is!!

See if you get any more of those now 😠

Haha :)

Friday, May 22, 11:46 PM

I can’t believe you chased away AN ENTIRE  
FOOTBALL TEAM WITH A GARDEN HOSE

They started it. I think the hole in that door  
is still there, actually.

If I hadn’t stepped in who knows what else  
they’d have broken.

So brave of you! So valiant!

Truly heroic!

Haha

How do you do those little picture things?

Like the little chicks

….Do you mean the emojis??

Oh my god Jack 🤦🏼🤦🏼🤦🏼

How can you be an Instagram star  
and not know how to use emojis?!?!

I’m not. I’m a hockey player.

You are literally the most annoying person

Haha

1:03 PM

🐥🐥🐥

!!!!! OMG

A MIRACLE

I asked Tater to teach me haha

THANK GOD

Are we still on for later? I’ll be free to  
call at around 3!

Yup. Got all the ingredients.

Yay!

Your first pie!! I’M SO EXCITED FOR YOU

Me too, Bits.

See you later 😊

Omg we’ve graduated to emoji smileys

THEY GROW UP SO FAST 😢

-

Bitty is surfing Instagram stories when he gets the email from his agent with the final processed pictures that Calvin Klein intends to release for their Pride campaign.

He had landed on Jack’s story, which seemed to be a conversation about...something...with his teammate Sebastien St. Martin. Of course, they’re speaking French so he can’t actually understand a word of what they’re saying, but he endures it anyway just to hear Jack speak. It’s only when the email notification comes in that he finally clicks away.

It turns out that he has access to the entire drive of photos, and he clicks on the folder with Jack’s name before he even realizes what he’s doing. As he pathetically looks through Jack’s (gorgeous, stunning) photos, he thinks about the day of the shoot and suddenly becomes acutely aware that it’s been months since he got his soulmark and he still has no idea who it is.

Shit, maybe he should have asked Jack about it after all.

They’ve been getting really close these past few weeks, and Bitty’s stupid crush on Jack Zimmermann has not diminished in the slightest. If anything, it’s just been dialled up to a thousand. It turns out Jack Zimmermann, in addition to being unfairly handsome, incredibly talented, and very intelligent, also happens to be a funny, sweet, and caring man who finds true enjoyment in chirping him within an inch of his life. Bitty doesn’t mind so much, because he can chirp him right back, and because for every bit of teasing, he gets a thoughtful comment or a random cute picture, too.

The thing is—and Bitty is very aware how much of a cliche this is—the thing is that Jack is unbelievably easy to talk to. Bitty had chalked up their first meeting to some fluke of amazing chemistry, but the casual way with which Jack has weaseled himself into Bitty’s everyday life seems to prove otherwise. It’s almost… uncanny.

Eventually, he navigates into his own folder and flicks through the pictures until he gets to the underwear shots. He ends up staring at a picture of himself, the one that was taken seconds before he found out that he’d finally gotten his soulmark. It makes him think about what a crazy coincidence it is that almost two months ago, he _had_ thought a variation of the words on his side about a man that he met that day, and how, conspicuously, said man—who had been French-Canadian this entire time, _oh my fucking god, how did he not realize_ —has not posted any shirtless pictures on his previously thirst trap-riddled Instagram page since March.

Suddenly desperate to know, he clicks back into Jack’s folder and swipes through the pictures, pausing on a particular one where Jack is sitting on the floor, leaning on a white box. The lighting is dramatic and the shadows are severe, which is why Bitty almost misses the black marks on his skin peeking out from under his arm. It’s just a few strokes that are visible, not even close to readable no matter how close he zooms, but it’s enough.

He’s still trying to come to grips with the fact that there’s a really high possibility—at this point, almost a certainty—that Jack Zimmermann is really, actually his soulmate when his phone starts ringing in his hands.

It’s Jack, because of course it’s Jack.

He scrambles to answer the call but his hands are shaking so badly that it takes him a few tries. He finally manages to swipe and presses the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“Hey, Bitty,” Jack says, his voice sounding tense. “The return address on those cupcakes you sent me, is that where you live?”

“What?” Bitty says, purely reflex. “I mean, yes! Yeah, that’s my apartment, why—”

“Are you home? Are you busy?”

“No, I...I was just—um, looking at the pictures…”

“Me, too,” Jack breathes. “I saw… I saw your pictures.” Bitty holds his breath for a moment, thinking Jack will explain, but all he eventually says is, “So you’re at home? Right now?”

“I—Yeah, yes, I’m home,” Bitty manages, completely confused at the turn of events.

“Okay, stay where you are. I’m—I’ll see you soon,” Jack tells him.

Bitty’s mind whirls. “What? Jack, what are you—”

“Bitty.”

The tenderness in Jack’s tone is what causes Bitty to stop sputtering. He clutches at his phone like a lifeline. “Yes, Jack?”

“I’ll see you soon,” Jack says. It sounds like a promise.

“Okay,” is all Bitty manages. “See you soon.”

It takes all of five seconds of browsing Eric Bittle’s photos from the shoot for Jack to realize what an absolute dumbfuck he’s been for the past three months, and how he can’t afford to waste any more time than he already has. He’s in his car and dialling Bitty’s number before he even realizes what’s happening. He’s just able to confirm that he’s headed to the right place, and that Bitty’s seen the pictures, too. Come to think of it, he also sounded pretty shaken, so he must have—

He must have realized and gotten disappointed—

Jack takes a deep breath, cutting out that train of thought before it can take off. He focuses on the traffic in front of him instead, on the feel of the wheel under his hands, of the press of his foot onto the gas.

When he’s finally calmed down enough to let himself think again, he realizes that under his nerves and panic is another stronger, more vibrant feeling—he’s excited. He’s so relieved and so _happy_ that it’s Bitty, that all this time it was Bitty all along. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this way about anything before—even winning the Stanley Cup for the first time doesn’t hold a candle to how lucky he feels right at this moment.

The fifty minutes from Providence to Boston pass him by quickly, and before he knows it, he’s turning right onto Bitty’s street and parking in front of Bitty’s building. He’s dreading having to explain to a doorman that he was stupid enough not to realize who his soulmate was when he got his soulmark a month ago, but as he crosses the street, he spots Bitty sitting on the steps of his building, dressed casually in a t-shirt and shorts and looking beautiful.

Bitty stands up as he approaches, smiling shyly, and relief washes over Jack at the sight of him. He doesn’t say anything when Jack reaches him, though, just smiles, takes his hand, leads him into the building, into the elevator, and finally, into his unit, the door clicking shut behind them.

Jack feels the words he wants to say build up inside of him as he follows Bitty— _hello, thank you, I’m sorry, I missed you_ —but they all fade back to nothingness as Bitty steps up to him, lifts a hand to his cheek, and pulls him down into a kiss.

For once, Jack doesn’t need to think words.

He loses himself a little in the feeling of Bitty’s hands on his neck, on his shoulders, on his chest; of Bitty’s tongue flicking over his lips and into his mouth; of Bitty’s soft hair beneath his fingertips. He gets his arms around Bitty’s waist by bending his knees a little, hands settling on the small of his back, and Bitty hums his approval into his mouth. Bitty’s kiss is sweet, tender, exploratory, and Jack feels it ignite every nerve ending in his body. Nothing has ever felt this right before. It’s the equivalent of a thousand goal horns firing off at once.

Eventually, they have to break off because they’re both smiling too hard to continue making out. Jack presses his forehead against Bitty’s, unwilling to go very far, and Bitty giggles. Jack feels his breath on his skin.

“Hi,” Jack says, finally. It’s suddenly the only thing he can think to say.

“Hi, yourself, mister,” Bitty says before pressing his smile into Jack’s neck. He mumbles something that Jack doesn’t quite understand.

“What was that, bud?”

Bitty nuzzles into Jack’s chest for a few more seconds before resolutely looking up at him. “You saw my pictures. As in, the pictures of me with my soulmark.”

“I did, yes.”

“And then you came here.”

“Yes.”

Bitty’s eyes roam his face, searching. “You thought I was sexy? I was wearing a trench coat.”

Jack laughs, the question catching him off guard. “It was a sexy trench coat,” he says defensively. “And it was also adorable.”

Bitty buries his face in Jack’s chest again. “I hate you,” he says, still muffled, but Jack understands it this time.

“No, you don’t,” Jack says, pressing a light kiss to his temple.

Bitty props his chin on Jack’s chest, grinning up at him. “You’re right, I really, really don’t.”

Bitty leads Jack to his couch before he goes into the kitchen to fetch them some tea. Jack takes the opportunity to look around Bitty’s place, and he decides that he likes it very much. It’s a loft, for one, pretty much the same size of his own condo, and the wide windows in the living room offer a spectacular view of the city and lots of natural light. But what makes it so nice is how _Bitty_ it is—warm colors, contrasting textures, pictures on the wall, and knick knacks scattered on the mantel—almost the exact opposite of his own sparsely decorated place.

Bitty comes back carrying a small tray with two mugs and a slice of pie. “If I’d known you were coming, I would have baked a fresh one for you to take home,” he says, settling down next to Jack.

“I get tea _and_ pie?” Jack says incredulously. “Must be my lucky day.”

Bitty rolls his eyes grandly, setting the tray down on the coffee table. “You know me, only the best for my soulmate,” he deadpans and then, realizing what he just said, he turns to Jack and tenses slightly. “I mean, that’s why you’re here, right? You didn’t just, like, suddenly get the urge to drive up here for a completely unrelated reason?”

Jack laughs, giddiness bubbling up in his chest as he reaches for one of Bitty’s hands and rests it on his waist, by the hem of his t-shirt. “I thought we established that with the trench coat thing, and maybe even with the kissing, but do you wanna find out for yourself?”

Bitty takes a deep breath and, locking eyes with Jack, lifts his shirt just high enough to reveal his own handwriting on Jack’s skin. He gasps, only breaking eye contact to stare at the mark, and runs his fingertips gently over the words.

“I thought it was you,” Bitty admits, blushing as he lets Jack’s shirt fall back down. “I remembered what I thought about you the first time, but Jeremiah said you didn’t have a soulmark, and it seemed so presumptuous of me to ask…”

“Yeah, I guess it came in towards the end of the shoot, probably. I was surprised nobody else noticed either. I only found it the next morning,” Jack explains.

Bitty traces over the words with his pointer finger for a few moments before looking back up. “Did you know?”

Jack shakes his head. “I’m… not so good with words. All I remembered about when I first saw you was that I completely spaced out trying to understand how you could be real. Turns out I _had_ been thinking the entire time, just…subconsciously, I guess.”

Bitty smirks at him. “Honey, if I made you lose your English when I was wearing a trench coat, it’s probably for the best you weren’t there for the rest of my shoot.”

Jack ducks his head, feeling his cheeks heat. “Euh, may I—” He tentatively gestures towards Bitty’s torso.

“Oh! Of course, sweetheart,” Bitty says, lifting the hem of his own shirt to show him. Jack’s already seen it in the pictures, already knows what it says, but it’s so much _more_ in person—it’s his handwriting, permanently printed on Bitty’s skin. It’s perfect. It’s real.

“Wow,” Jack breathes, grinning up at Bitty. “Now I _really_ wish I could have stayed, eh?”

Bitty chuckles, tugging his shirt back down. “Honestly? I’m glad we got to know each other a bit before we found out,” Bitty admits. “Is that weird to say?”

“No, no, I was kidding, Bits. I feel the same,” Jack reassures him. “These past few weeks have been… amazing. I don’t know how I didn’t figure it out sooner.”

Bitty laughs, shaking his head. “You’re telling me. I was just too chicken to ask ‘cause I was too afraid that you’d say no, but… I really wanted it to be you.” Bitty smiles at him for a moment, igniting a warmth in Jack’s chest, until he seems to remember something. He looks around, eyes landing on the untouched slice of pie on the table. “Do you—do you have anywhere to be?”

Jack shakes his head. “First round exit, remember? Game seven? TD Garden? You were there,” he points out. “Wearing my jersey,” he adds, smirking.

Bitty turns bright red. “So what? Can’t a boy support a good hockey player?”

Jack bites his lip, sees Bitty track the movement with his eyes. “It’s okay. I liked it.”

Bitty’s mouth drops open, and he grabs a pillow to whack Jack in the chest. “Stop this right now. You are such a menace.” He ducks when Jack attempts to retaliate. “I was just going to ask if you’d want to stay and help me bake, but since you’re being _so insufferable in my own home_ —”

Jack grabs his hands and scoots up to him, pressing their sides together and leaving their faces inches apart. “Bitty.”

Bitty melts under his touch, eyes dancing with mischief. “Jack.”

“Please let me stay.” Jack does his best attempt at puppy dog eyes.

Bitty leans forward, stopping a hair away from Jack’s lips, and Jack’s eyes slip shut on their own accord. When Bitty speaks, it’s so close that Jack feels the words on his lips: “Only if you’ll let me keep you.”

Jack hadn’t meant to stay the night, but after baking (and eating) what Jack claimed to be the best pie he’s ever tasted in his life, he and Bitty spend the rest of the evening demolishing a box of pizza and just... talking. Bitty finds out more about Jack’s anxiety and why he ended up going to college first instead of going pro when he was eighteen, and Bitty tells Jack about growing up in Georgia and moving up to Boston to make content on the internet for a living. They finally fall asleep close to midnight, curled up on the couch, to reruns of Friends playing in the background.

The next morning, Bitty wakes up before Jack does. He’s got a crick in his neck from the weird position he slept in, both of them crammed together on Bitty’s couch, but it’s worth it just to see Jack’s eyes flutter open after he presses a soft kiss on his nose. Jack smiles at him, bleary-eyed and sleep-warm, and Bitty thinks he could live in that moment forever.

It takes all of Bitty’s willpower to get out of bed (or, well, couch) to start breakfast, but eventually, Jack’s stomach lets out a loud rumble, making them both dissolve in a fit of giggles. When Bitty’s finally all prepped and ready to cook after having a cup of coffee, he finds out that Jack wasn’t lying when he said he wasn’t much of a cook when he rounds the counter, peeks into Bitty’s skillet, and asks, “So what’s the difference between an omelette and frittata?”

Bitty laughs, thinking it’s another one of his chirps, but when he looks up, Jack is serious. “Well, mostly just the way it’s cooked. An omelette, you cook in a pan and it’s usually just a few eggs at a time. With a frittata, it’s a lot more eggs, and you start on the stove and finish cooking it in the oven.”

Jack nods like this makes sense to him. “So it’s like… a quiche but without the crust?”

“Well, a crustless quiche would fully bake in the oven,” Bitty says as he stirs the contents of the pan.

Jack frowns adorably, leaning back against the counter. “Huh. I didn’t realize there were so many ways to cook some eggs. I’ve never used my oven for that, at least.”

“Well, now you know!” Bitty says, turning the stove off and bending over to place the skillet in the oven. “I’d be happy to show you how to use your oven to cook sometime, since it’s so dreadfully underappreciated,” he says, hamming up his Southern accent for dramatic effect.

Jack hums as he chews on his toast. “We could go after breakfast, if you want,” he suggests casually.

Bitty’s eyes widen. “Oh god, I didn’t mean to impose—”

Jack snorts. “Impose what? Free food?” he says, smiling. “Besides, I basically barged in here yesterday without any warning and then overstayed my welcome, so I think it’s the least I can do to invite you to use my kitchen today. Or any day, really, if you’re busy today.”

Bitty thinks about declining for a second until he realizes he didn’t have much planned for the day other than prep for a new video… which he can now do at Jack’s place, with Jack’s oven, and Jack’s other high-end kitchen tools he’s probably never used before.

“I… Are you sure?” he asks. “What about you?”

Jack raises an eyebrow at him. “What about me?”

“Aren’t _you_ busy today?”

Jack clutches at his chest, feigning pain and staggering back slightly. “Ouch, Bits. Thanks for the reminder,” he says, laughing. “No, we’ve been over this, remember? You’d be surprised at how little I actually need to be doing during the offseason. It’s why I did those lectures at Brown.”

“Oh,” Bitty says. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Jack says, grinning widely at him as he moves closer. “You’ll come back with me to Providence?”

Bitty bites his lip, trying to tamp down his excitement at getting to see where Jack lives. “Okay, fine,” he relents, sighing. “If you’re sure.”

Jack pumps his fist in a celly before stepping into Bitty’s space. “And you’ll overstay your welcome at my place, too, right?” he says, voice low.

Bitty smacks him lightly on the chest. “Are you propositioning me, Mr. Zimmermann?”

Jack’s expression turns serious all of a sudden as his hands land on Bitty’s waist. “Only if you want to be propositioned, Mr. Bittle.”

“Hmm…” Bitty says, cocking his head to the side teasingly. “I’ll do it on one condition.”

“Anything.”

Bitty looks up at him with his best poker face. “We sleep on your bed this time. My back still hurts from sleeping on the couch all night.”

Jack grins wickedly. “Done.”

Bitty supposes he’d never really thought about what it meant to have a soulmate, but he had guessed it was probably something to do with compatibility or chemistry or something.

That morning, he’d reckoned it was more of the former. Being with Jack was unfailingly easy. After getting over the initial awkwardness of being casual acquaintances in a professional setting and then actually becoming friends, Bitty found he had run out of reasons to keep up any pretense or try to be his best self. It’s evident in how effortlessly Jack gets him to open up, like when he asks a simple question and Bitty ends up telling him so much more, and in the way Jack seems to be the same with him. It’s in the way that he seemed to fit so seamlessly in his apartment, how they danced around each other in the kitchen while baking like they’d choreographed it, how easily they’d decided on what to watch, and how natural it was to fall asleep cuddled up to him. There’s something terribly familiar about all of it, like maybe all those songs about knowing someone in a past life were onto something, after all.

He thinks it might still have a little bit to do with chemistry, though, because every time he looks at Jack, it still feels like he gets a mini-heart attack from how attracted he is to him. But even then, there’s a heightened sense of comfort, because Jack looks back at him with the same intensity, the same fondness, the same affection. It’s a miracle, considering it’s technically still the only time they’ve ever spent time together, but it’s automatic, how they seem to gravitate towards one another. Even on that first day they met, upon entering a room full of people, Bitty’s eyes immediately snapped towards Jack.

“You ever think about how random it is?” Bitty says suddenly, disrupting the comfortable silence they’d been driving in. “The whole soulmate thing?”

Jack taps his fingers on the wheel, thinking. “I don’t think it’s random, I think it’s… I dunno, there must be some kind of logic to it, right?” He spares a glance at Bitty, shrugging one shoulder. “Like with the soulmarks. I don’t think it’s a coincidence we happened to think the same thing about each other.”

“Really?” Bitty raises his eyebrows at him, surprised.

Jack glances at him, a wry smile playing at his lips. “Did you know I was an ugly baby and a fat kid?”

Bitty’s mouth falls open. “You were _not_.”

“I really was. You can Google my baby pictures, if you want. The media made sure I knew, too.”

“Oh, honey.” Bitty grabs Jack’s hand from the gear shift and squeezes it.

“Yeah. So I didn’t always like how I looked. I maybe even hated it, sometimes, so seeing my mark…” He smiles at Bitty, a small thing. “It was comforting, you know? It’s a little pathetic, I know, but. It’s nice to know you think that.”

“No!” Bitty insists. “No, that’s not pathetic at all. You internalized what people had been telling you when they were being cruel and rude to _a child_ ,” he scoffs, feeling himself get worked up on Jack’s behalf. “I’m sure it must have been really tough, but I’m glad you got there eventually,” he says, pressing a kiss to Jack’s knuckle.

Jack grins at him. “Me, too, Bits.”

Bitty takes a deep breath, hesitating before thinking what the hell. “Sometimes, I still think my career is just a fluke, you know?” he says, playing with Jack’s fingers so he doesn’t have to look at him. “I was so nervous going into that shoot, I thought I didn’t deserve to be there just because, what, some random people thought I was somewhat conventionally attractive? Next to you, I look like a paper bag!”

“I wouldn’t say anything about you was _conventional_ ,” Jack chuckles lightly, “But bud, you have to know they asked you because you’re crazy talented and so genuine and you’re good at what you do, right?”

“What, dancing? Talking to a camera?” Bitty snorts.

“Making people smile. And yeah, I guess, dancing, and baking, too,” Jack allows. “And you are insanely attractive, no matter what you think, which I’m sure did nothing to dissuade them from asking you. You can trust me on this, bud. You made me forget English while you were fully dressed.”

That gets a laugh out of Bitty. “I’m just… a little scared, you know? It feels like it’s been so easy with you—like, almost too easy. I don’t know if there’s supposed to be a catch or something.”

“Trust me, I know the feeling. But I’ve learned not to question it when I’ve got something good.” Jack smiles as he lifts Bitty’s hand to kiss his fingers. “Anyway, I think the catch is that you’re stuck with me, bud.”

Bitty rolls his eyes. “Oh, my, what a punishment, I get to be stuck with a sexy multimillionaire hockey-playing history genius! What rotten luck!”

“And I get to be stuck with a super hot and famous NCAA Champion who can dance the house down and bake me whatever the hell I want,” Jack fires back, grinning. “Are we really having this argument?”

Bitty shakes his head, giggling. “Guess not.” He turns bodily towards Jack, leaning against the seat. “So what is it that you want me to bake for you when we get to Providence, hm?”

“Really?” Jack glances at him, surprised. “I thought you had to prep for a video.”

“I do, but I’m feeling generous today,” Bitty shrugs. “We’ll probably have to drop by the supermarket for ingredients anyway, so choose wisely, Mr. Zimmermann.”

“Honestly?” Jack says. “I’ve been thinking about your brownies for months.”

The rest of the drive goes by in a blur, especially when Bitty finds out Jack has no real awareness of Beyonce and her music, so he spends the rest of the trip attempting to educate Jack on her discography. They hit the Whole Foods near Jack’s place, because Jack is a rich person who lives in a rich people part of town, and then they have a brief squabble over who gets to pay which Jack wins by sneaking his credit card to the cashier while Bitty is distracted.

They get to Jack’s apartment eventually, and Bitty gets momentarily sidetracked by Jack pressing him to the door and giving him a filthy kiss right there in the foyer, but he eventually escapes to the kitchen, not to be deterred by the semi their impromptu makeout session had given him.

Jack sits back and watches him work for the most part (“Just admiring the view,” he says), so Bitty finishes the brownies in record time. The kitchen is a dream, of course—pristine counters, state of the art appliances, and the beautiful oven—and Bitty sends up a quick thanksgiving prayer to the soulmate gods that they gave him the one with a gleaming red five-quart Kitchenaid stand mixer. Jack lets it slip that he may also have an ice cream machine that his mom inexplicably got him when he first bought his apartment, so Bitty also ends up making a vanilla custard while the brownies bake just because he can.

Jack gets away with distracting him with kisses while they wait for the ice cream to freeze, lifting him onto the counter and taking him apart with his lips. (He pouts when Bitty hops off to get the brownies out of the oven, so Bitty makes sure to give him a show when he bends over.) Soon after, Bitty peeks into the ice cream machine and dips a spoon in to taste.

“Oh my god, Jack,” he says, mouth still full of ice cream. “You have to taste this!” He holds out a spoonful for Jack to taste.

Jack steps up behind him and boycotts the spoon entirely, swooping in to lick into Bitty’s mouth instead.

“Mm, that _is_ really good,” Jack says, waggling his eyebrows at him.

“Oh my god, you are disgusting,” Bitty says, shaking his head. “No brownie a la mode for you!” He snatches up the ice cream machine and pivots away, laughing at Jack’s betrayed expression. He deliberately prepares just one serving, moving so slowly he can feel Jack’s eyes track his every move. At the last second, he turns towards Jack, takes one long look at his puppy dog eyes ( _impossible, seriously, what is up with that_ ), and his resolve crumbles. “Oh, fine, come here, ya big lug.”

Jack runs to catch him against the counter and kiss him for real. “You’re terrible,” he says, nipping at Bitty’s jaw.

Bitty laughs brightly. “That’s my line, sweetheart.”

“Okay, fine,” Jack allows, pressing one last kiss to the corner of his lips before looking him in the eye. “You’re incredible,” he says. “And I think I’m falling in love with you.”

Bitty seriously feels his cheeks start to ache from how hard he’s smiling. “Wow, what an amazing coincidence,” he says. “I think you’re incredible and that I’m falling in love with you, too.”

“Oh, wow, amazing,” Jack deadpans, unable to resist pressing one more tiny kiss on Bitty’s cheek as he wraps his arms around his waist. “It’s like we’re soulmates or something.”

“Oh my god,” Bitty grouses, laughing into Jack’s chest. “You really are terrible. I can’t believe I’m stuck with you.”

“Sorry, bud, no take-backs,” Jack tells him. “Like the words on our skin.”

Jack lets Bitty spend the rest of the morning doing his thing in the kitchen as he locks himself in his office to do a bit of research, only emerging to help prepare lunch and taste-test the sourdough donuts he’s been trying out. He rejoins Bitty in the early afternoon as he’s adding some final notes to his recipe, sneaking up behind him and wrapping his arms around his waist. Bitty wants to swoon at how utterly domestic it is to be here like this, but Jack’s nibbling at his earlobe and it’s becoming really hard to ignore the sexual tension that’s been there since probably the first time they met.

Needless to say, one thing leads to another and they end up “christening” a bunch of other things aside from Jack’s kitchen, including Jack’s couch, Jack’s pool table, and eventually, Jack’s bed. Bitty finally gets to put his chemistry theory to the test and they pass it with flying colors because he honestly doesn’t think he’s ever been this turned on in his life. (He’s delighted to find out that Jack’s single-minded precision apparently also applies to sex.)

Later, when he’s sprawled all over Jack’s chest and coming down from what was probably the most intense orgasm of his life, he spots something on the bedside stand and perks up.

Jack groans and opens one eye to look at him. “Bud, as much as I’d love to, I really don’t think I can do another round tonight.”

Bitty slaps his pec, laughing. “Oh my god, you’re insatiable. It’s not that.”

Jack sighs happily and relaxes back into bed. “Sorry, there’s like a really hot guy in my bed and I’m kind of still not over it.”

Bitty rolls his eyes at him. “Well, I was just going to ask if I can borrow your camera.” He leans over him to reach for it on the nightstand. “May I?”

Jack leans up and rests on his elbows to watch as Bitty fiddles with the camera. “What are you doing?” he asks curiously.

Bitty holds up the DSLR to his eye and fiddles with the lens. “Taking your picture.”

Jack flexes a little, making Bitty laugh as he takes the shot. “Can I ask why you’re hijacking _my_ camera to take _my_ picture?”

Bitty lowers the camera a little. “Well, you have a picture of my mark. Professionally taken, even. I want one of yours, too.”

“And you decided you want it like this? Sweaty and disheveled?” Jack raises an eyebrow, smirking.

“Hot and glowing?” Bitty counters, taking another shot. The lighting isn't the best, but Jack is gorgeous, so it kind of works anyway. “Can you move a bit to the side? Your arm’s kind of in the way.”

Jack scoots up to sitting position and twists to the side, leaning on the headboard. “Like this?”

Bitty looks over the viewfinder to wink at him before snapping a picture. “Perfect.”

Jack hams it up for the camera, putting his hands behind his head and flexing hard. He succeeds at keeping a straight face for at least a few shots before Bitty leans away from the camera and sticks his tongue out at him, making him laugh. Bitty’s able to click at exactly the right moment to catch Jack breaking character. The result is exactly what Bitty was going for: a candid shot of Jack with his soulmark, all his glorious muscles in full display, and his expression bright and open mid-laugh.

“See,” Bitty says, shuffling back into his previous position to show Jack. Jack’s arm automatically curls around him. “You really shouldn’t be allowed to be this cute and hot at the same time. It should be illegal.”

Jack peers down at the screen for a second before reaching for his phone and pulling up Bitty’s picture from the shoot. He lines his phone up next to the camera so their pictures are side by side. “I like yours better,” he comments, before taking the camera from Bitty’s hands and placing both gadgets back on the nightstand.

Against his better judgement, Bitty snorts. “Why?”

Jack levels him with a look. “Well, without your photo, we would have never figured it out,” he says simply.

“Or maybe we would have, just… y’know,” Bitty settles into Jack’s arms, nuzzling at his neck. “Much later, when I finally pulled my head out of my ass.”

Jack shakes his head, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Bitty’s hair. “Well, I’m glad we didn’t have to wait so long.”

Bitty smiles into Jack’s chest, pressing a soft kiss there. “Me, too, honey.”

When Calvin Klein finally drops their Pride campaign, the first picture they release is a candid moment between Jack Zimmermann and Eric Bittle, looking into each other’s eyes and sharing a laugh. It looks for all the world that they’d known each other for years, not like they’d literally just met minutes before, and people take notice.

**Jack 🐥🍑💓** **  
** Sun, 1 Jun, 2:04 PM

Have you seen this?!

[Link attached: Jack Zimmermann and Eric  
Bittle Are Disgustingly Cute in This New Calvin  
Klein Ad on Buzzfeed]

People are tweeting about it like crazy

They’re calling us ‘Zimbits’

There’s even a hashtag!!

??? Why Zimbits???

Haha, that’s amazing

I think it’s like Timbits?

The donut holes from Timmies?

As in Tim Hortons??

...Okay maybe that is kinda cute

And hot

Omg

Shut UP

Haha

Hey

Love you❣️ See you tonight 😘

Love you too, bud. Can’t wait.

❤️

-

Liked by **jlz** and **thousands of others  
omgcheckplease** this boy. #MYTRUTH #MYCALVINS @calvinklein  
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Liked by **omgcheckplease** and **thousands of others  
jlz** perfect match. #MYTRUTH #MYCALVINS @calvinklein  
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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAH!! I DID IT!!! Granted, this is really just like 6k (who am I kidding almost 7k) of pure unbridled mostly plotless fluff and the only reason it took so long for me to finish is that I kept wanting to write more fluff so... LOL ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ AMIRITE
> 
> ANYWAY stuff I put in my notes for this chapter:  
> \- the pause in their text conversation where Jack replies late to Bitty’s video because he “had a thing” is inspired by the moment in canon when Bitty sent Jack selfies in his puck bunny costume and Jack died too hard to respond. Jack’s “thing” that he had was a mild heart attack from Bitty dropping it low LMAO  
> \- this story was heavily inspired by the song from which i pulled the title (Black Butterflies and Deja Vu by The Maine, which I blasted to death while writing this), but other songs that really had me itching to write a soulmate AU, particularly this one, include: Avalanche by Walk the Moon, Strangers by the Jonas Brothers, and most recently, Invisible String by Taylor Swift!! So pure!! So romantic!!  
> \- if you hadn't guessed already, they post pictures of each other instead of themselves as their participation in the CK campaign because I have this uncontrollable urge to always start and end with bookends :--)
> 
> That's it for this one, please kudos if you liked it, leave a comment if you really liked it, and lmfao I'm just joking hockey playoffs just started again and I just got done watching Steve Dangle's latest vlog about the Leafs win (!!!) last night and that's how he ends his videos HAHFLKAJ but on a serious note, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING/ COMMENTING/ KUDOS-ING!! I hope you're all well and safe and healthy, and that this gave you even a lil bit of joy in this really (really really) difficult time. ❤️


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